


rapprochement

by sebfish



Series: frenemies with benefits [2]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Frottage, M/M, Philadelphia Flyers, Pittsburgh Penguins, Schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2018-08-07
Packaged: 2019-06-23 04:30:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15598326
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sebfish/pseuds/sebfish
Summary: “Hey,” Sid hears and turns, and Claude’s there, soft in a t-shirt and sweats.“Hey,” he says in return, voice catching a little bit, and it’s all he can do to step forward the last few feet to where Claude’s coming forward to meet him, arms open.





	rapprochement

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to détente, it will make sense without reading the first but follows after it. It's set just after the Penguins got knocked out of the second round of the 2018 playoffs. 
> 
> I wasn't quite done playing in this universe, and had the idea for this at the end of that series. This is the non-angry flipside to the last fic, because I love the idea of them being sort of friends with benefits who publicly dislike each other and aren't really sure what they're doing anyway. 
> 
> Unbetaed so all mistakes are mine.
> 
> Disclaimer that this is a fictional representation of the people mentioned and no harm is meant.

It’s a stupid idea for him to be here, tired and heartbroken and fresh off the loss, but he needs it more than anything.

He doesn’t bother knocking, just unlocks the door and slips inside, setting his bag quietly on the floor. He slides his shoes off and places them carefully in the rack by the door, lining them up neatly.

“Hey,” Sid hears and turns, and Claude’s there, soft in a t-shirt and sweats.

“Hey,” he says in return, voice catching a little bit, and it’s all he can do to step forward the last few feet to where Claude’s coming forward to meet him, arms open.

Claude hauls him in for a tight hug and he exhales, finally, feeling all the tension seep out of him at long last. He presses his face into Claude’s shoulder and breathes in the scent of him, the warm smell of his body wash and that stupid Old Spice deodorant he always uses and he smells so much like home that Sid feels dizzy with it. Claude’s dogs are rattling around their feet, excited, but Sid ignores them.

Claude doesn’t say anything, just presses a kiss to the side of his head and holds on tight.

They stand like that long enough that the dogs give up and go off to whatever they were doing before this, and it’s nice to be here, in the quiet, wrapped up in Claude’s warmth.

He makes himself pull away, finally, and tries to surreptitiously wipe his eyes. He’s not sure he succeeds at that, but Claude leaves him be in favor of picking up Sid’s bag.

“I can get that,” Sid protests half-heartedly. Claude ignores him and sets off, leaving Sid to follow.

“I was going to order a pizza for dinner, if that sounds good,” Claude says instead, dumping Sid’s bag just inside the master bedroom.

“That’s fine,” Sid says, standing awkwardly in the doorway, “do you mind if I?”

“Go shower,” Claude laughs, not unkindly, and shoves at him gently as he pushes past him.

 

 

 

He feels a little bit more human after he showers and dresses, digging clean comfortable clothes out of Claude’s closet instead of pulling them from his bag. They’re his, anyway, left behind some other time he was here, but they smell like Claude’s laundry detergent and his house and that’s exactly what he needs right now.

Claude is sprawled along the couch when he finally finds his way to the living room, scrolling through something on his phone. He sits up when Sid comes in, and Sid takes it as an invitation to drop down next to him.

“Better?” Claude asks quietly, wrapping an arm around his shoulders and pulling him in.

“Yeah,” Sid says, letting himself sink into the warmth of Claude beside him.

 

 

 

Claude slips back downstairs while Sid showers, and it’s ridiculous how glad he is to see him.

There’s a small part of him that’s viciously glad that the Penguins got knocked out, that wants to say _see how that feels?_ But he’s tired and he’s already had time to get over the loss enough to be gracious. He’s not fucking happy about it, of course, but maybe he’s just more used to losing because it doesn’t sting as much as it should.

Maybe next year, he tells himself, like every year.

He orders the chicken veggie pizza that Sid likes along with one with everything, because he knows Sid will make a face at it and then end up stealing a few slices anyway. They both need it anyway, catching up from end of the year leanness followed by the playoffs even if neither of them got as far as they wanted.

He messes around on his phone while he’s waiting, catching up on his teammates’ social media posts from all the corners they’ve already scattered to. He should’ve fucked off as well, escaped to home in Ontario, but there was a part of him that was hoping that maybe, before Sid fucked off as well to wherever he was going this summer.

The pizza still hasn’t arrived by the time Sid comes down, looking a little more relaxed and at home, and it doesn’t take any nudging at all to get him tucked up next to him on the couch, warm and solid and real after a season of snatched visits whenever they could manage it, the occasional overnight and quick visit and never as much as Claude really wanted.

He wants to be selfish sometimes, like he could hoard Sid away where no one else could touch him, where he could be like this, warm and present and Claude’s, for the moment. Sid belongs to so many people that it’s hard to think that he could ever have a piece of him.

But here he is, and Claude will hold on to that as long as he can.

 

 

 

He drifts a little bit while they wait, because it’s been two days since the end of the playoffs and clean out day and he’s still exhausted. It’s nice like this, the quiet sounds of Claude’s house and the dogs whuffling quietly in their sleep as they nap, the distant hum of air conditioning and electronics.

The doorbell breaks the silence, and Claude dislodges him with a murmur and leaves, returning a few minutes later with two pizza boxes which he sets on the table. He leaves again in the direction of the kitchen, and Sid stretches and sits up while he listens to him rattling around.

He comes back with plates and paper towels, handing one off to Sid. He accepts it and opens the boxes, grabbing a slice from each.

“Yuengling okay?” Claude asks, setting his own plate on the table. “Or do you want something else?”

Sid shrugs. “That’s fine.”

Claude leaves again and returns a few minutes later with two beers with the tops already off, and hands one over to Sid as he sits down next to him and grabs a few slices of pizza for his own plate.

Sid wasn’t waiting for him, exactly, but he digs in then. It’s the chicken veggie pizza he always gets here and it’s as good as ever, hot and a little bit greasy. The beer is good with it as well, and it’s quiet as they eat.

They polish off most of both pizzas between the two of them, and it’s quiet and comfortable like this, full and clean and comfortable with Claude a long line of heat pressed up against his side.

 

 

 

Sid is quiet tonight, but it’s what Claude expected and it’s gratifying to know that he’s someone Sid feels comfortable being quiet with. They’ve never defined what they are, and maybe he’s a little afraid to, somewhere between fuck buddies and something he doesn’t quite have a name for yet.

Sid lists against him as they sit, pizza finished and the house quiet around them. Claude nudges him until he gets the memo and rearranges until he’s stretched out on the couch with his head on Claude’s lap. Claude brushes his fingers through Sid’s hair, scratching gently as Sid hums in appreciation. His hair is getting long enough that it’s curling a little bit at the ends, close to when Sid will probably cut it again.

He doesn’t bother to turn on the TV, just sits with his hand in Sid’s hair as Sid breathes quietly beside him.

“It just sucks, you know?” Sid mumbles against his leg, long enough later that Claude had thought he’d fallen asleep.

“Yeah,” he responds, because it does. Maybe it would sting less if he was coming off two Cups like Sid was, but maybe not. Sid sits up a little so he’s leaning against Claude instead, and he slides his arm down to wrap around his shoulders instead.

“I knew it was a long shot,” Sid continues, warm against his chest, “but you’ve still got to hope, eh?”

 _Not over us,_ he wants to say, but he knows that’s not true anyway. He presses a kiss to Sid’s hair, lingering a little.

“You’ll get there,” he says instead, resting his cheek on the top of Sid’s head. They’re both big enough that it’s not the most comfortable, but it works. Sid laughs, a little, a small thing that’s half a sob, and Claude tightens his arm around him.

“You will,” he says again, and Sid hums in response.

 

 

 

They sit together long enough that Sid’s almost falling asleep again, comfortable in the quiet and the solid warmth of Claude beside him. He feels safe like this, with Claude’s arm wrapped around him and his quiet reassurance and it’s not how they are all the time, but it’s the times like this that make him keep coming back.

Not that the rest of it isn’t worth it too, because there’s something heady about fucking Claude when they’re both flushed and spitting mad and ready to take it out on each other, but this is nothing he ever expected and more than he could’ve ever hoped for.

He’s not the easiest person to get along with, he’s well aware, but Claude always seems to know exactly what he needs.

The light is starting to fade when he feels the soft press of a kiss on his head and Claude shifts a little, straightening up.

“Hey Croz,” he says softly, shaking him a little. “You want to head to bed?”

“Okay,” he murmurs in response, sitting up and stretching a little, pulling out of Claude’s hold. He stretches a little as Claude gets up and starts clearing away the rest of the pizza. He should probably help, but Claude doesn’t ask him so he sinks into the couch while he waits, listening to the dogs follow Claude into the kitchen and the quiet cadence of his voice as he talks to them.

He’s halfway to drowsing again when Claude comes back and offers him a hand off the couch, pulls him up and nudges him gently upstairs.

“C’mon,” Claude says, voice soft and fond. “Let’s get you in bed before you fall asleep on your feet, eh?”

He brushes his teeth and pisses while Claude’s getting the dogs settled for the night, then strips down to boxer briefs and climbs into bed.

The bed dips a short while later and he sinks into the warmth of Claude behind him and the solid weight of Claude’s arm wraps around his middle.

“Night,” he says, and feels warm breath on the back of his neck as Claude settles in.

He’s exhausted enough that he drifts off before noticing if Claude says anything in response.

 

 

 

The bed is empty when he wakes up, feeling warm and drowsy. It’s early still, judging by the light, splashing warm gold across the room because he forgot to close the curtains before they went to bed. Not that it matters, anyway, because Sid’s always been an early riser even on his days off, but Claude would’ve preferred to sleep a little longer. He stretches a little, feeling his spine crack, then slides off the bed in the direction of the bathroom.

Sid is in the kitchen when he makes his way downstairs, looking soft and rumpled, sitting at the breakfast bar in the same clothes he went to sleep in. He looks at home, here in Claude’s kitchen with a plate of eggs and mug of coffee, and it makes something twist in his chest.

He’s immediately distracted by Harvey and Charlie noticing his entrance and rushing up to him, wagging their tails and prancing around in doggy excitement. He greets them softly, crouching down to pet them.

“I let them out,” Sid offers, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. “But I didn’t feed them yet.”

“Okay,” Claude says, moving over to the cupboard where he keeps their food. He measures some out into their bowls and leaves them to it, coming up behind Sid instead and wrapping his arms around Sid’s waist.

“Morning,” he says, pressing a kiss to Sid’s cheek.

“Morning,” Sid says, turning so he can kiss him properly. His lips are soft under Claude’s as he kisses him lazily, the kind of good morning kiss he missed because Sid never stays in bed longer than he has to in the mornings. He breaks the kiss and pulls back to nuzzle at Sid’s neck a little, pressing a kiss there.

He pulls away reluctantly because he’s still sleepy and goes to fish a mug out of the cupboard, filling it with coffee and a splash of coffee creamer.

“I made eggs,” Sid says, and sure enough there’s a covered pan still on the stove, half full of eggs. He grabs a plate and fills it up, and takes it and his coffee to the seat next to Sid’s.

They eat in silence, but it’s nice, sitting close enough that he can feel the warmth of Sid sitting next to him. Sid gets up once he’s finished eating, washes the pan and puts it in the drainer to dry and rinses his own plate and puts it in the dishwasher even though Claude’s told him before that he’s welcome to just leave everything in the sink. He leans against the counter when he’s done, staring out the window at the back yard.

Claude eats the last bite of his eggs and washes it down with the rest of his coffee, and goes to put his own dishes away.

Sid’s on him as soon as he finishes, crowding into his space and pushing him back against the counter. It’s not particularly comfortable with the cold countertop digging into his back, but it’s worth it for this.

“Hey,” Sid says, and leans in to kiss him deep and unhurriedly, sighing softly against Claude’s mouth as he gets his hands on Sid. They make out for a while like that, Sid warm and pressed all against his front.

“Want to go back to bed?” Claude offers when they break apart to breathe, sliding his hands under Sid’s shirt to palm at the warm skin underneath.

“Okay,” Sid says, and Claude leans in to kiss him deeply again, licking his way into Sid’s mouth and nipping at his lower lip. Sid shudders as he strokes his hands along Sid’s sides, pressing down to dip under the waistband of his sweatpants.

He pulls his hands out reluctantly because otherwise he’s going to end up blowing Sid in the kitchen again, and pushes against him until he gets the hint.

“C’mon,” he says, and drags Sid upstairs.

 

 

 

Claude looks stupid in the mornings like this, rumpled and gingery and never wearing his tooth, and sometimes Sid wonders where the hell he went wrong that this is what does it for him.

Sid strips as soon as they get upstairs, not bothering with formalities, and flops down on the bed.

Claude is staring, halfway out of his shirt, and it’s a heady feeling to know that he can get to him like this.

“What?” Sid says, closing his eyes and stretching, grinning a little because he knows what he looks like, even when he’s leaner than usual at the end of the season.

 “You’re a menace,” Claude says, stripping off his shirt and throwing it somewhere on the floor. Sid hears the soft sound of Claude’s sweatpants hitting the floor and then the bed dips as Claude climbs on it, and Sid opens his eyes to see him looming over him.

“Hey,” he says, feeling settled for the first time since he woke up this morning, feeling safe and warm and a little out of his element. It’s not like they aren’t nice to each other, but outside of the warm bubble they’d been in last night he’s not quite sure what to make of this. It’d been exactly what he needed and maybe that’s the most unsettling part, to know that Claude knows him that well.

It’s easier like this though, with Claude looming over him with heat in his eyes, a little flushed and hard where his dick is pressed up against Sid’s hip. Sid’s not quite there yet but he’s getting there, especially once he pulls Claude down to cover him fully and tugs him in closer so he can lick into his mouth.

Claude grinds down a little, working him up, and reaches down a hand to wrap his hand around Sid’s dick. He arches into the contact, feeling his dick slowly fill in Claude’s hand until he’s aching with it and Claude is jacking him steadily, just on this side of too dry but not so much that it doesn’t feel good.

“What do you want?” Claude asks against his mouth, and it takes Sid a moment to think.

“Just this,” he says, pulling Claude’s hand off his dick and repositioning him so he can grind them together. It’s easy and simple like this, Claude’s dick wet with precome and easing the slide against Sid’s, rubbing together in a slow, easy rhythm. Like this, he can get his hands on Claude’s ass and grind up against him, warm and caged in by the weight of him.

Claude leans down to bite at his neck, sucking what’s probably going to be a mark as his breathing gets harsher until he’s just panting against Sid’s neck as he grinds against him, slow and filthy.

Sid’s close already, feeling hot and desperate at the friction on his dick, the heat building at the base of his spine as he rocks up.

“Claude,” he gasps, and then he’s spilling across his stomach as his orgasm crashes through him, gripping Claude desperately, leaving him feeling washed out in its wake.

“Fuck, Croz,” he hears, and then Claude stiffens above him and groans as he comes, adding to the mess between them. Claude collapses down on top of him, pressing his face in to the crook of Sid’s neck and clinging a little bit like he always does.

He’s sweaty and probably slightly disgusting but he likes it like this, pressed together skin to skin with the smell of sweat and come and Claude heavy in his nose.

Sid’s almost falling asleep by the time Claude makes a noise and slides himself off to the side, resettling next to Sid and pressing in close.

Claude is staring at him, expression soft and dopey and tinged with something Sid can’t quite name and isn’t sure if he wants to.

“Stay,” Claude says, voice soft. Sid presses up against him, not quite sure what he’s asking.

“What?”

“You should stay,” Claude says, clearing his throat. “I know you’ll have places to be, but please, stay with me, just for a few days.”

He’s still looking at Sid, and he looks like everything Sid wants right now, warm and soft, like a place to come home to after the sting of a loss and the end of a season.

“Okay,” Sid says, and Claude smiles and pulls him in.


End file.
